


The Warehouse

by Jet_M_Doods



Series: Red vs Red [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Anger, Angst, Batman is a bad dad, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't say I didn't warn you, Emotional Constipation, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt No Comfort, I'm tagging every violence just in case, Jason Todd has a foul mouth, Unapologetic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jet_M_Doods/pseuds/Jet_M_Doods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red Hood has been minding his own business since he arrived in Gotham. Too bad Batman doesn't see it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warehouse

When the smoke had cleared and all the spent shells had settled to the ground, Jason Todd was the only one left standing. Again.

He rose from his crouch slowly, taking in the carnage and listening for the inevitable moan that meant he hadn’t quite finished the job. It was at times like these that he was eternally grateful for his need to protect who he was so thoroughly; the helmet did an excellent job of keeping the dust and gun powder out of his lungs.

The one shaft of moonlight strong enough to reach the floor of the most current shithole Jason found himself in was just enough to show him that he was right. At the corner of his vision, he could see movement and he was reaching for one of the cargo pockets on his pants before he had fully registered the need to move. The tiny Jason that lived in his head was smug.

_There’s no escaping his training. You wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for what Bruce taught you._

Jason snorted gently and finished loading his pistol as he quietly moved towards the last place he had seen movement.

_You got it all wrong, kid. As usual. Without all of Bruce’s training, I wouldn't have died. Now shut up._

The voice in his head was quiet and Jason felt grimly satisfied. It was not lost on him that arguing with an imaginary version of his younger self was just one more reason he belonged in Arkham but it was a childhood habit he couldn’t break. He had learned early on that in Crime Alley, it was safer to pick a fight with yourself. There was less collateral damage and if you were really lucky, the criminal element would peg you as one of the crazy ones and leave you alone.

With a nearly inaudible click, he shoved the fresh cartridge home and raised the large gun in front of him. The goon that had been trying to pull himself away heard the noise and whipped his head around in Jason’s direction, whimpering. He tried to pull himself faster as he opened his mouth and Jason sighed to himself.

He hated when they tried to run. Hated it more when they begged.

“Hoo…hoo…puh, please…Hood. Don’t kill me. I ain’t done nothin’ to anyone. I swear!”

Jason had no patience for this part of the job.

_Oh please. Like you just accidentally wandered into a random warehouse in the middle of the night and found yourself in the middle of this. Moron._

Tiny Jason didn’t either. It was one of the only things they agreed on.

Jason stopped, raising his gun higher and taking aim. He would be sure not to miss this time.

“WAIT! Please! Wa….”

_BANG_

The man’s corpse hitting the ground was just as disgusting as always. Jason could never understand how something as invisible as a soul somehow made the difference in the way a body fell. When there was life, the fall was muted; like even in unconsciousness, the body knew enough to try to protect itself. After death, it was louder; messier.

Jason had had plenty of time to think about this on dark nights when the past was growling too close to the surface. Maybe it was because an empty shell no longer had worth to anyone no matter its value in life.

He squinted against the dark, staring at the floor behind what was left of the man in front of him. Or maybe it was because brains rarely hit the floor in one piece.

He gave the scene around him one last survey, checking for any other survivors. Finding nothing, he holstered his gun and reached for the latch that would release his helmet. Pulling it off over his head, he took in a lungful of air, only choking on the thick scent of copper for a moment.

Some nights, his helmet was his greatest armor; others, it was like being stuck in his coffin all over again.

Tucking the helmet under one arm, he slid his hand through his hair until his palm was resting on the back of his neck. The tension there was stronger than any massage he was going to get tonight. Sighing, he dropped his hand to his jacket pocket and grabbed the pack of smokes he had there. Eyes down, he headed for the entrance as he shook a cigarette out, grabbing it with his teeth before closing the pack and shoving it back down into his pocket.

By the time he had the first lungful of nicotine, he knew he wasn’t alone anymore. He didn’t bother looking up even as he slowed to a stop several feet from a deep patch of shadows.

_Batman!_

Tiny Jason perked up as he always did whenever Batman appeared. No matter how hard he tried, Jason couldn’t get him to understand that their relationship wasn’t the same anymore. Most likely, never would be.

“Hood.”

Jason took another drag of his cigarette. He hoped it made him look nonchalant and not like he needed the extra minute to compose himself.

“B. What can I do ya for?”

His voice sounded gravelly. He knew it was because last night had been a bad one, full of ghosts and nightmares. He only hoped the exhaustion wasn’t showing through as well.

“You can tell me why you just gunned down a dozen men.”

Jason raised his eyes at the darkest part of the shadow before slowly turning his head to take in the carnage behind him. It was a pretty grisly site but not the worst Jason had seen. Not by a long shot.

_At least they're all in one piece still._

Apparently Tiny Jason was feeling as morose as he was. It happened every once in awhile. Usually after one of the really bad nights. Still, he could hardly argue with the voice in his head in this case. Getting beaten almost to death and then blown up had changed his perspective on a lot of things.

Turning back to Batman, he shifted his weight into a more relaxed stance sensing that this was going to take awhile.

“Thought that would be obvious.”

“Enlighten me.”

Another drag of his cigarette. Slow exhale in Batman’s direction. Repeat.

There was a slight shift in stance so minute that if Jason hadn’t been trained by the man, he never would have seen it. Sometimes it seemed that of all the things he did that irritated his estranged ex-father and mentor, smoking was what really pissed him off.

Jason grinned, held it. He knew it looked wrong, slightly off-kilter. A little more like Joker than it should.

“Well you see, I found out these guys were planning a little party tonight and I wasn’t invited. Thought I’d crash it anyway. Poor manners, see? Alfie would be appalled.”

That earned him a small grunt but even breaking the cardinal rule wasn’t enough for a reaction these days. That was what the body count was for.

Another long moment of silence. Another lungful of nicotine.

When it seemed that the conversation had stalled, he stood up straight again, tossing the cigarette butt to the ground, before snubbing it out with the toe of his boot.

“Well…as illuminating as this has been, I have things to do.”

He shifted the helmet from under his arm, raised it to his head, and stuffed it back on over his shock of red hair. It wasn’t suffocating anymore. Now it was safety.

The click of the latch seemed to wake Batman out of his musing. He took a step forward and now he was close enough to the light that Jason could see the whiteout lenses in his cowl. It was a move calculated to scare the shit out of criminals. No matter how tough you thought you were, seeing glowing eyes come at you out of the shadow was nerve wracking.

Jason wondered if Bruce ever thought about how his boy soldiers felt whenever he did it to them.

_Maybe if you would actually talk to him like the grownup you pretend to be, he wouldn’t have to try to scare you into listening._

Guess Tiny Jay wasn't on his side after all.

“This isn’t how things are supposed to be.”

Jason tried to hide how surprised he was that Bruce had spoken but knew he had failed. He wished he hadn’t tossed the cigarette already. He couldn’t pull out another one without taking off the helmet again and that would make it look like he was willing to have this conversation.

“Oh yeah? What things would you be talking about?”

A slight growl.

“You know what things.”

“Sorry. You’re gonna hafta clarify a bit. Are you referring to me doing what I was raised to do? Taking out the criminal element? Or maybe you’re referring to the fact that I no longer bow down to you. Which is it?”

His stomach was churning, his growing anger a sick feeling rising into his throat. He didn’t know why he was still having this conversation. All he wanted was to be home, drinking enough to finally crash for a few hours.

“This was NOT how you were raised.”

Bruce’s voice had dropped in octave. Never a good sign.

“How I was raised. Yeah well, look where that got me. Thought I’d try things my way since I got a second chance and all.”

Jason winced at how much bitterness was laced through his statement. He couldn't have sounded more like a little kid if he tried.

_Nice Jay. Keep it up and he’ll never let us come home. I mean…come o…._

**_IT’S NOT OUR HOME ANYMORE! WHY CAN’T YOU GET THAT??_ **

Jason was very aware that he was being watched and analyzed and most likely, coming up inadequate. Some things never changed.

When the older man spoke again, he sounded closer to Bruce than Batman.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t get there in time to save you and I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. Mostly, I’m sorry that not being there meant you turned into this. This is my fault but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow this to continue.”

Jason felt like he had just been slapped.

What. The. Fuck.

His stomach dropped and he was suddenly grateful that he hadn’t gotten around to eating that sandwich on his way out the door. It would have been in a puddle in front of him by now. If he had known his night was going to end this way, he would have just gone straight to the bar. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to attack.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, old man? Who the hell do you think you are? You didn’t _turn me into this_. You DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! That was the problem! What makes you think you can just come swooping in and tell me what to do? You weren’t there when it mattered and I’ll cut my own heart out before I allow you to have any control over my life EVER AGAIN.”

By the time he had finished, his breathing was as shaky as his fists. Even to his own ears, he sounded choked up. He was so close to the edge as it was; all the anger and hate and sorrow just waiting to take him over. The last thing he needed was for Bruce to see him cry. It was time to go.

Bruce paused for a minute before pulling himself up to his full height and squaring his shoulders.

“I need you to know that if you continue down this path, I will be coming for you.”

“Well there’s a first time for everything.”

He hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

Bruce carried on like he hadn’t spoken.

“Your brothers want you to come home and…so do I but I will not put their lives in danger. I will not allow you near them while you’re like this. If you intend to continue running around behaving like the villains you claim to be cleansing Gotham of, you better get used to looking over your shoulder.”

Jason said nothing. Tiny Jay had disappeared for good it seemed.

Batman took his silence as some sort of acquiescence and Jason didn’t have the energy to fight him. Not right now.

Bruce stepped back into the shadows, made deeper since the moon had moved beyond the hole in the window.

“Take care of yourself. I’ll be watching. Son.”

With that, he disappeared as if he had never been.

Jason stood still for another minute, seething with frustrated longing and anger so strong he was surprised that it hadn’t burned him from the inside out. He whirled back around, grabbing his gun from the holster and unloading what was left of the clip into the body closest to him.

“ **FUCK!** ”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired this one was Doomtree's Little Mercy. 
> 
> I thought I'd try my hand at writing Jay when he's at his most angry. I hope I captured his character well. Same with Bruce. I have loved everything about the Bat family for so long and I've always been afraid to write them in case I couldn't do their characters justice so if this feels like a huge mess, please tell me. I can take it. 
> 
> I don't have an upload schedule for these but hopefully it'll be relatively consistent.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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